Growing up in Grand Rapids, a regular columnist in the newspaper signed off as "The Old Curmudgeon." I realized that I had grown to be such a grumpy old man much of the time. My daughter's impetuous hugs and my wife's reflexive smile when she sees me keep me lighthearted enough to be called civilized.
QUOTE(Julian @ Jul 19 2003, 05:59 AM)
Maybe I've been fantastically lucky never to have been stalked online or off, but I don't see the need to use a pseudonym. (No disrespect to those that do - I'm sure you have your reasons.)
Yes, I do have reasons. I remember trying to show my mother what e-mail was. The first message that popped up was from one of my brothers. "What did he mean by that?" she screamed at me. She's passed away, but I have 5 siblings scattered far and wide who comment every time my name appears in a newspaper. (I frequently write letters to the editor. Occasionally, some of them sound rational enough to be published.) My ex-wife

and I have no communications, and I'd like to keep it that way.
Adapting a "nom de plume" is made easier for me than most, as I had a very strange working career. Every time I changed depts., supervisors, or habits; I was stuck with a new nickname. In one shop, I was known as "Moses," in another as "Crash," but the one that held on the longest was "Wally." I was to start a new job in the summer of 1968. One supervisor shared my first name, and another had a last name that varied from mine by a single letter. "We're going to call you Wally as long as you're in this building." Eighteen years later, there was no one left in the building who had worked with any of the three of us. However, when I went into the building on a service call, I was greeted as "Wally." During a thirty year career, my last supervisor was the only person who consistently called me by my first name.
My last supervisor also did me the favor of clearing out my "imaginary personnel folder." Someone for instance, drove a fork lift through a concrete block wall on my days off. Someone took a can of spray paint and wrote "Wally" next to the hole. Officially I was cleared, but the story attached to me. Several other instances like this got passed along as "facts" whenever I changed supervisors, and the legend grew... I mentioned to him one day that I thought I had an imaginary personnel file, containing all of the mistakes I had supposedly made over the years. (State laws and company policy required that the paper trail be purged at a maximum of two years after an event happened.) "Actually, you do." he said. We then spent a day discussing what he had been told of me, and I told him what I knew of the facts behind the legends. It took him about a month to contact people in buildings I had worked in, to see what the real facts were. He told me, that in actual fact, most of the situations had been traced to the actual culprit and punishment dealt out. None of the "facts" that had been passed on for up to 25 years, could be attributed to me. One of the classics, was an anonymous letter which every supervisor in my department had been shown. It was being used to prevent me from signing the job that I finished my career on. We were in a meeting with the section manager (a friend who respected my work and my reputation) and the chief steward. The engineer who had allegedly written the letter, according to everyone "familiar" with its source was called into the meeting. He shook my hand and said, "How nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot of good things about you." I was awarded the job.
QUOTE(erratic_energy @ Jul 21 2003 @ 04:51 PM)
back in elem school when I was picking my e-mail...
Ahhh, how is it that such little sentences can make one feel so old (and I'm not even old!)
In high school, a math teacher I had from 7th through 12th grades tried to describe to us a phenomenon. "If you can learn to set your problems up properly, some day a machine will solve them for you." In college, a math teacher came in with a printout where he had solved pi to seven decimal places. "It's something I negotiated in my contract. I'm allowed to run one program a year on the school computer to keep my skills current."
My father was old when I was born. When Sputnik was launched, he was amazed that something could orbit the Earth."How do they do that?" I sat down, and showed him how to figure the orbital velocity for the altitude it was reported at. He was amazed that my numbers agreed with the newspaper. He then went on to tell me that when he was my (at the time Sputnik was launched) age, he was an apprentice saddlemaker. (The spell checker doesn't even recognize that word!) "I saw it as a job with a good future, because people would always be riding horses."